Wings
by whyndancer
Summary: In a world where the only part of the Goliath Chronicles that is real is the Quarrymen, and where allies are painfully scarce, one of the Manhattan Clan makes a surprising new acquaintance. *chapter three is up! ^_^*
1. Prologue

Wings

Prologue - The Beginning 

Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles or anything related to them 

Wings

By Whyndancer

Prologue

New York City is a place where the buildings stretch their towering peaks toward the sky.

In the penthouse suite of one of these giants of glass and steel, a young woman sits among paintings, figurines, and various other likenesses of what seems like a hundred thousand different strange and fantastical creatures and beings. The setting sun casts a golden glow throughout the room, glinting off innumerable pairs of carefully crafted eyes. But the glittering display goes unnoticed. The eyes of the girl seated silently at the window are turned outward. Her forehead just touches the cool panes of glass, her gaze fixed on a stone edifice rising above the clouds. 

Authors Note: Is this ridiculously short? Yes, yes, I know, it is. I also know that it is just a prologue. An ambiguous introduction. Therefor if you would please continue on to 'Chapter 2', New Acquaintances – The First Chapter, I shall continue this tale. Thank you.


	2. New Acquaintences

Wings

New Acquaintances – The First Chapter

Brooklyn stretched and shook the last bits of stone from his body as the last rays of the sun winked out one by one behind the spires and towers that made up the horizon of lower Manhattan Island. His bat-like wings spread to their full extent, reaching out as if to gather the whole of the world in his grasp, then caped about his shoulders while he drew himself out of the lassitude of sun forced sleep. 

As was his custom, he made a quick visual sweep of the aerie Building in order to assure himself that all was as it should be. The familiarity of the stone walls and parapets was comforting as his eyes sought out each of the members of the clan in turn. Goliath, having just dropped the short distance from his roost on the highest tower, was also in the process of surveying their ancestral home and reassuring himself that naught had gone wrong during the day. He grinned as Bronx tackled Hudson, the old-timer wobbling under the unexpected assault, then watched as they headed once again to the TV room. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Lexington's tail disappearing down the stairwell that led to the computer room. _Humph. Prob'ly wants to check his mail before we go on patrol. _The white headed gargoyle chuckled softly to himself at his rookery brother's obsession with modern technology, but the laughter died in his throat as his gazed touched upon the spot where Broadway and Angela stood in the midst of a tender embrace, and he quickly averted his eyes. 

His eyes clenched tight as pain blossomed in his chest. Taloned feet shuffled the many fragments of stone that lay scattered in various piles across the stone battlements. He heaved a great sigh and hung his head in defeat. It wasn't that he was angry at Angela or upset with her in any way for choosing Broadway over him, he'd long ago reconciled himself to the fact that it was her choice and her right to choose. In fact, when he wasn't feeling sorry for himself, he was happy for his rookery brother. But it still hurt. Just as it had hurt when Maggie had turned away from him in fear and rejection so long ago. He purposely kept himself from thinking about Demona. That was one place in his memory he'd rather keep locked up for good. If this kept up he figured he wouldn't have much left of his heart but tattered shreds. The sounds of their city, their home, filtered up through the clouds in a dull roar much like the one in the back of his head. He had often wondered about exactly why it hurt so much–

"Brooklyn!" Goliath's voice cut into his reverie, effectively severing the line of thought his wayward mind was following. "You take the south side. Tonight we'll test and see if we can properly keep in contact with each other using the new communication devices Xanatos provided for us. The others already have their assignments for the night. As soon as Elisa arrives–"

"As soon as I arrive what?" 

Goliath too was cut off as the raven headed detective sauntered out of a shadowed doorway. 

The ramparts echoed with the glad greeting of the gargoyles, as Elisa was enveloped in the winged embrace of their leader. The clan quieted as the pair drew apart, and the particular significance of this night's patrol once again surfaced in the minds of all gathered.

Elisa's brow knit in an expression of concern as she gave voice to the thought lingering in the back of everyone's mind.

"I don't mean to be a worry wart or anything, but are you really sure about this? I know it's been a while, but are you really and truly ready to trust Xanatos with something of this nature?"

"Elisa," Goliath replied in an almost reproachful, yet characteristically tender voice, "Although I fully understand your concern, you must admit that in the nearly two and a half years since Xanatos returned our home to us, he has given us absolutely no reason to distrust him or his motives. In fact he has been nothing short of a good friend. And you know as well as I do that for my kind to survive in this world we will need all the friends we can get. And—"

"And a friend you can't let yourself trust little better than an enemy. I know." The clans oldest friend from their new home shook her head lightly in a gesture of resigned acceptance. "And you're right Goliath. I guess I just have a little trouble with trust at times. Comes from being a cop I suppose."

Brooklyn didn't think that Elisa's hesitancy to trust Xanatos stemmed entirely from her career. Especially considering the fact that he shared much of her doubt. For although the clan had certainly accepted help from Xanatos on previous occasions, it was usually involve something that was of such extreme importance.

Tonight would mark the first time they had accepted something Xanatos had given them that wasn't visibly within his best interests. 

However, with the Quarrymen growing almost unchecked, they were up against a wall. Even the nightly patrol getting risky, but Goliath insisted that they continue. Just because they weren't always wanted, didn't mean that they weren't needed still. That was why they needed a better com-system. Only two nights ago they had been ambushed when the Quarrymen had tapped into their com signals. Xanatos offered to provide a newer state of the art system with all kinds of scramblers and shieldings. 

Brooklyn wasn't too sure of the specifics himself, but Lexington had rambled on about the new features for almost an hour before he had realized that no one was really listening. One of the few things that the redskin had understood, however, had given him cause for concern. Apparently each unit of the communications system was directly linked to a main console, that would remain here in the castle. From this Master Console, a person could control how contact was established and maintained between units as well as utilizing pinpoint tracking capabilities for each and every linked device. Brooklyn worried about Xanatos' ability to resist the obvious manipulative possibilities. 

In any case, the moon was rising and it was time to get going.

——

One after another, great shadows detached themselves from the roof of the skyscraper and soared off into the winter night. Detective Matt Bluestone watched from the street below as they wheeled off to different parts of the city. He grinned wistfully as he waited for his partner to return so that they too could begin their patrol of the city.

As a warm updraft caught his wings and buoyed him closer to the moon, Brooklyn closed his eyes and allowed the sounds and even the smells floating up from the city below to sink into his consciousness. 

Presently, one noise distinguished itself from the others and drew his attention. A faint, but insistent cry for help, born on the relatively warm gusts of air rising from the bustling city streets below him sent him spiraling out of the sky and sweeping into an alleyway where his eyes met with an all too familiar sight. 

A young woman was backed up against a wall as three of the city's upstanding thugs advanced, brandishing chains and switchblades. Without hesitation, Brooklyn threw himself into the thug nearest the girl, slamming him forcefully into the brick wall just above a convenient dumpster. The young gargoyle had always harbored a certain fondness for putting trash where it belonged. He then landed and advanced on the would-be muggers that remained. True to form they did not remain long. Faced with a superior force the punks turned tail ran, looking like ghosts that had had an unfortunate accident in an electrical supply store.

As the goons disappeared around the corner, Brooklyn eased out of his offensive stance and wearily turned to face their intended victim. _Here it comes. _He braced himself for the inevitable reaction. _Ya' know, I think I'm getting tired of being called a monster by people I just helped. _But as his eyes met those of the girl still leaning up against the far wall of the ally, he was surprised to see that though her eyes were widened, it was not in fear or hatred as expected, but in wonder, amazement and even what seemed to be excitement. Nonplussed, he could do no more than stand and blink as she peeled herself off the brick and took a hesitant step in his direction.

"You're a gargoyle."

There was no hint of condemnation or accusation in the softly spoken statement, instead a note of wonder could be detected. A wary reply was given.

"Yeah. I'm a gargoyle."

"And your not a monster."

That one set him back a moment. Hearing the familiar, hated word in a negating statement from a total stranger was something he was so unaccustomed to that it took a moment to really sink in. Also slightly confusing was the strange, full quality of her voice, as though something was about to overflow. . .

"No, I'm not a monster."

Her whole face lit up and a wide grin flashed over white teeth for a split second before an ecstatic shout rang through the alley.

"I knew it!!!"

Brooklyn stumbled and froze in shock, his wings half spread, for with her exultant cry, the girl had literally launched herself at the completely unprepared gargoyle, latching her arms around his neck in a quintessential glomp*.

She continued to babble excitedly, all the while still holding him in a near choke hold. Despite his dazed stupor, Brooklyn managed to make out bits and pieces of her strange ramblings. _"I knew it!"_ was decidedly repetitive, but he also caught bits like ". . .not crazy. . ." and ". . .sooo incredible. . ." 

After a few minutes the mania seemed to wear off, and her slight form dropped lightly to the ground. As she backed off slightly Brooklyn's knees finally gave way beneath him, unceremoniously dumping him into a seated position. 

It was her turn to blink in surprise at her companion. Concerned, she knelt down so that she was just below eye level. 

"Are you alright? Did you get hurt by those jerks?"

Brooklyn snapped back to reality with the query.

"What, them? No way punks like those could get me. I'm fine. You just kind of startled me. I'm not exactly used to that kind of reaction."

"Oh." Even in the dark alley he could see the blush darkening her cheeks. 

"It's just that… I've always loved the idea of gargoyles. I've wanted to meet one for as long as I can remember. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Don't be. It's kind of a nice change now that I think about it. What's–"

He stopped short as the sound of approaching footsteps intruded.

"Over here Officer! One of them monsters attacked us, I swear!"

"Shit. The punks squealed." His voice dripped with disgust at the hypocrisy even as he leapt to his feet and prepared to climb the walls so he could reach a takeoff point. 

"Wait!!" 

The girl had also stood and was now clutching his arm. "Please. I know you can't stay here but at least tell me how I can see you again!"

Pausing for only a moment to see the look of near desperation in her eyes, he swung her up onto his back.

"Hold on." Remembering her surprising strength from earlier he wryly added, ". . .just. . . not too tight."

As the red gargoyle found(made) his first clawhold in the wall, he noticed her arms carefully tighten around his neck and felt a pair of legs rise to grip his waist. Her face was buried in his shoulder. 

Once her was high enough on the building he spread his wings and launched himself into the night. The grip on his waist and neck tightened, but not uncomfortably so. He did wonder how the girl could breathe though, the way her nose was jammed into his shoulder. 

After soaring about twenty-five blocks distance from the mugging incident, he lit on one of the taller buildings and crouched down so his passenger could disembark. When she continued to maintain her grip on him for several minutes he decided to venture a suggestion.

"Um. . . you can get down now."

Her head shot up at his words. After a bit of a scramble he found himself once again facing her, though this time she had a slightly sheepish look on her face. 

"Sorry."

"Are you afraid of hights?"

"No."

". . .then. . .what was that about?"

"I'm not afraid of hights. I'm afraid of _falling_. From high places that do not have railings and/or glass walls or some other type of protective barrier."

". . .That makes sense."

"I think so."

Conversation petered out at this point, leaving one of those annoyingly uncomfortable silences, until Brooklyn remember the question he had been about to ask when he was interrupted by the return of the punks.

"What is your name, anyway? I was going to ask earlier but there were a couple of distractions. My name's Brooklyn by the way."

"I'm glad I have something to call you besides just Gargoyle." She grinned and her nose crinkled. "My name is Alida Gabrielle Sinead McCullough." 

". . ."

She laughed softly at the slightly perplexed look on his face. "But you can call me Gaby."

__________________________

Don't Kill Me!!!!

Yes I am leaving the first chapter there. I swear on my soul that If I do indeed continue, I will have the next chapter up within a couple of weeks. (Sorry I can't promise any sooner, but I have other things that I do with my life and a case of almost perpetual writers block.(actually it's more like perfectionists constipation…^_^;)) 

I will need positive reviews to persuade me to continue. I'm not going to spend waaaay to much time eeking this out if it's no good.

Also…*^_^*…did anyone notice the Peter Pan-ish scene?

Also If anyone wants me to give the meaning of some of the words I use, just tell me.(I know full well that I talk like I swallowed a Dictionary. *sigh* o.o;)

Tanks.

Whyndancer.

January, 03, 2003.

Hiiiii!!! *waves madly* 

I have made a few editorial changes with this update, a bit more explanation, clarification, some grammatical correction, etc.

Brownie points if you can figure out what's different!

Whyndancer.


	3. Story

Wings

Story – The Second Chapter

"So what's your story?"

"Hmm..?" Gaby blinked and snapped out of her reverie at the gargoyle's query. She blushed slightly as she realized that she had been staring raptly at him for several minutes now as he crouched near the edge of the roof, just out of sight of the street below. His wings were caped about his shoulders, covering most of his torso, but it was still easy to admire the almost predatory grace of his posture.

She shyly lifted her gaze to meet his.

"Um. . .what was the question again?"

-_-; He paused for a moment and blinked slowly a look of almost amused resignation on his face. He grinned slightly at her part apologetic, part bashful question. After introductions had been exchanged they had once again fallen silent, though it was a companionable silence rather than an uncomfortable one. He had turned to gaze out over the as he pondered his companion, and the unexpected events that had brought him to this rooftop.

"I asked what your story was. Where are you from? What do you do? Why you don't share the same . . . less than complimentary opinion of gargoyles as damn near everyone else in this city. And," here his expression darkened a bit as a slight frown tilted the corners of his mouth down, "just out of curiosity. . .why you were in that alley in the first place."

"I _wasn't_ in the alley in the first place."

When he gave her a pointed look she crossed her arms and made a small moue. She then proceeded to ignore that particular question and address(ed) the first part of his query.

"My story. Hmm. I can't expect that it's anywhere near as interesting as yours, but if you really want to know I guess I'll have a go at telling it. 

"I was born in a small town on the western cost of Ireland. I lived with my mother and father in a small house by the sea. We lived there by choice, not necessity. Both of my parents came from money and we could have lived anywhere in the world, in any manner we wished. They chose to live simply, in the country that their ancestors had lived in for centuries. I loved it.

"I was raised on the old legends, the stories of the Fae and their brethren. Of the great Faerie Lords and Ladies in their Rafts beneath the hills, the pooka, the giants. These stories shaped my childhood, and my favorites were of the great protectors, the Gargoyles."

"Woah, woah, woah. . .Time Out. I hate to interrupt you here, but. . . You mean to tell me that there are actually stories that have us as _good guys?!?_"

Bell like laughter rang out over the rooftops at the pale haired gargoyle's dumb-founded expression, and forest green eyes shone with mirth.

"Of course. I don't think it would be possible for such a wonderful people to be completely maligned. What, did you think that _everyone_ hated you?"

"Sometimes."

The deadpan reply extinguished Gaby's mirth like a bucket of cold water.

Brooklyn was standing at the wall that rose waist high from the edge of the roof. His talons had dug into the brick barrier so forcefully that it was on the verge of shattering, and his wings had unfurled and halfway spread, the tension in them easily visible. The lithe red form shuddered as a hundred unpleasant memories returned and swamped him. The young gargoyle's mind was lost in a land far away and long, long ago.

Consequently, it was no real surprise that the winged guardian started when a small, pale hand covered his own. His head snapped up and dark brown eyes met green ones. Gently and carefully, Gaby took his taloned hand in both her own and raised it to her face, touching it lightly to her cheek where a single tear made a glistening path downward from eyes filled with understanding.

She took a deep breath and continued, still holding his hand in hers.

"My mother told me stories of a great and noble people who watched and protected the keeps of old while the sun took its rest. She told me of great clans defending those keeps that they had taken for their suntime resting places, their homes.

"I was awed and enchanted by the idea of these stone bound guardians. I remember asking my mother where they lived, and could we go there because I wanted to meet one. When she told me that she didn't think that any still lived in these times, I cried. I guess you could say that, for me, meeting you has been a dream come true."

Here she broke off and gave her companion a smile tinged with sadness, then looked away. He didn't really notice. He was still to busy trying to process her last statement. He did, however, notice when her hands left his. Brooklyn watched as the human girl stood and walked away from him, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. When she reached the center of the rooftop she stopped, and was still, her arms dropping gently to her sides. Turning to face him, she resumed speaking.

"As I said before, both my mother and father had money. They didn't use it much; we lived mostly on what my father made as a handy man and jack-of-all-trades, and my mother would sell small homemade dolls and knick-knacks. But they didn't let it just sit in the bank and go to waste. They wanted to be sure that they would never find themselves wanting in an emergency, and that I would always be taken care of. While they didn't care to live the 'rich life' they felt that I should be allowed to choose whatever lifestyle I fancied. Or something like that. In any case, they would periodically go on business trips into the city. It was a six hour trip by car in fair weather, and they were usually gone at least a week, sometimes two. I stayed at home with Aunt Nan to look after me. She wasn't really my Aunt. I don't remember who her real blood relations were, if she had any that lived, but she was like everyone's grandmother."

A fond smile graced Gaby's face as she reminisced about the old woman. She did not, however, continue speaking, and as the silence stretched out thin and brittle the smile slowly faded, leaving pain and grief in it's wake. Her arms rose again, this time wrapping tightly about her middle, as if to hold herself together. Her face turned away from him.

Brooklyn didn't know how long she stood there staring off into the distance. Not seeing him, or the rooftops or any part of the city around them. In the soft light from below and above, he thought he could see the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. For a moment he thought that she looked like she would shatter at the slightest touch.

Finally – _Had it been a minute? An hour?_ – she took a deep shuddering breath. And went on.

"The eve of my tenth birthday was clear, and calm. . . and cold. Very, very cold. I remember standing in the open doorway of our home, looking up at the stars and picking out the constellations. There was no moon that night, and because we were so far from any big cities, there was no light pollution to dim them. I stood there shivering, watching my breath fog up until at last Aunt Nan came and brought me back inside. Mama and Papa were on their way home from one of their trips. 

"I was told that the road along the cliff had iced over from the cold. In the dark they must have misjudged the curve, and then been unable to correct the car when the wheels lost purchase on the ice. . ."

Here her voice trailed off and silence reclaimed the rooftop for just a moment. Then Gaby turned again to look at Brooklyn and with a small, apologetic smile said simply,

"I miss them."

She gave a small shrug and a weak laugh.

"I know I don't really have much to complain about, I mean, it's not like I was tossed out into the cold to fend for my myself. An estranged relative of my father – a cousin I think, I'm not sure of the exact relation, I never asked and he never said – became my legal guardian. He's a good man, a business man, possessed of a fair mind, a sensible nature, and a strong sense of responsibility. And he had absolutely no idea what to do with me. So he did what any other reasonable man would do in his position. He assumed control of my estate, ensuring that it would be safe and would continue to grow until I reached my majority, boarded up the cottage by the sea, and promptly sent me off to one of the most well respected boarding schools in the world. That's what brought me to America."

"That must have been quite a change."

She sniggered at Brooklyn's comment and responded wryly.

"That's an understatement."

They grinned at each other for a minute, then started as a third voice sounded, seemingly from nowhere.

__

". . .Brooklyn?. . .Hello. . .Brooklyn? Are you there?. . ."

"Ah, shit."

Brooklyn swore softly to himself as he reached for the button that would allow him to respond to his rookery brother. He had turned it off just before dropping from the sky to investigate the cry for help that had caught his attention at the beginning of the night. The very same cry that had brought him to where he was now. When he had swooped into that alley he had very much been _not_ in the mood to deal with the questions and concerns that a broadcast confrontation would inevitably bring. Especially if he was forced to deal with less than grateful recipients of his assistance. There were plenty of people that would just as soon call the cops on him, as thank him for bothering.

__

And damned if I didn't luck out this time. Maybe the powers that be AREN'T out to get me.

"**_Brooklyn!!!_**" The com flared to life once more, loud, clear, and obediently static free.

__

Then again. . .

For some reason his fingers refused to cooperate, and even the small piece of machinery was being particularly perverse. The next five minutes or so were filled with soft swearing punctuated by intermittent bursts of sound as Lexington continued to demand an answer. The cursing was brought to an abrupt halt when a pair of small white hands reached up and easily flipped the switch in question.

As their eyes met briefly, Brooklyn was profoundly glad that his skin was red to begin with. In the half-light of the rooftops it would be nearly impossible to tell that his face was a few shades darker than normal.

He shoved his embarrassment aside and answered his concerned friend.

"Hey Lex, cool it. . . I'm fine."

There was a heartbeat's worth of silence, then. . .

**__**

"Then why the heck did you take so long to answer?!?!?!"

He winced at the volume. 

"Geez. . . Look, I turned off the mic for a routine mugging and forgot about it til you started being a worry wart just now. It wasn't quite as routine as I thought it would be. Nothing bad though. Then when you decided to check up on me, I had some trouble turning the damn thing back on." Brooklyn purposely ignored the sound of badly suppressed laughter. Lexington didn't.

"_Um, Brooklyn. . . Is there someone else there?_"

The tentative query made him pause, and the answer found waiting for him brought a slow smile to his face. He looked at Gaby. She had stopped laughing and was watching him intently now. His smile widened into a full blown grin.

"Yeah Lex, there's somebody else here. A new friend."

Gaby's smile was blinding.

--------------------------------------------

Argh.

I have several scenes of this story running around my brain. I just have to figure out how to get to them. Don't worry though, I think I already have a good idea of how to go about the next chapter. It will be posted as soon as I remember to finish writing it. ^-^

I've just about decided what Gaby looks like and might give a detailed description in the next chapter. If I'm to put it in the story I'll need a good reason to be giving a detailed description, so I might just put it in a footnote.

Some of these scenes are really giving me conniptions.

Oh yah, there were a couple of things I wanted to add.

Once again, I do not own Gargoyles. 

I do own Gaby. (you steal her, I bash you)

All inconsistencies with the Gargoyles Universe that I might include are made possible by a little something called Artistic Licence.

Umm. . .ummm. . .Oh yeah! This fic is rated PG – 13 for language. (if you hadn't already figured that out. Tell me if you think I should raise it)

Well, I think that's about it. Oh! And Please Review. Thank you.

Cíao!

Whyndancer

(good lord did I babble!)


End file.
